


Rapida Scribere Oportet Aqua

by helem



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, season 7, season of secret sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helem/pseuds/helem
Summary: Set sometime during Season 7. No spoilers, but All Things didn't happen. The title is part of one of my favourite Catullus lines, which goes: Sed mulier cupido quod dicit amanti in vento et rapida scribere oportet aqua, which translates to, "But what a woman says to her passionate lover it is best to write in the wind and in the swift-flowing water."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! First time smut and fluff! My very first non RPF. Kudos to me.
> 
> Also, I don't condone unsafe sex, but, let's face it, these two knew each other back to front long before they did the deed.
> 
> Guys, I'm so obsessed with hooked by amyelouise. If you haven't read it yet, please go do so now. Even before you read this fic. It's just too good.

“Scully,” he whispers gently. “Scully.” He sees the shadow of her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she rouses from sleep. He doesn’t really want to wake her but they’re sitting side by side on the floor in front of her sofa and his butt is pretty much numb.

She raises her head to gaze blearily up at him in the light cast by the lamp on the side table. “’M sorry, Mulder. I was just resting my eyes and must’ve dropped off. Was I out for long?”

She’s so sleepy and adorable that he doesn’t tell her she’s been fast asleep for the better part of an hour. “Were you just resting your neck too?” he teases, referencing how her head had lolled to rest on his shoulder not long after her eyes had fluttered closed. He fails to mention how his own arm had slowly migrated from resting along the sofa cushions behind her to being draped across her neck, hand curling around her shoulder.

Her cheeks tinge pink and she represses a smile in that way that drives him crazy and he gives her shoulder a squeeze. “I should go,” he says softly, already anticipating the loss of her warm petite form huddled next to him.

“No,” she says so softy that he almost doesn’t catch it. “I don’t want you to go.” He wonders if she’s still half asleep because she snuggles impossibly closer to him, dropping her head back onto his shoulder.

“Scullyyy,” he chuckles despite the butterflies swarming in his abdomen in response to her unexpected yet very welcome affection.

“I don’t,” she insists. “I much prefer having you here with me.”

He sighs. “Well, can we sit up on the sofa then? I can’t feel my butt anymore.”

She breaks into a full bellied laugh, one he hasn’t heard in a while, and throws her head back so he can catch a glimpse of her toothy smile. She’s so beautiful that he momentarily forgets about how uncomfortable he is. She settles and it takes a beat for him to realise that they’ve been staring at each other with goofy grins for a moment too long to pass for partnerly fondness. Her hair is slightly tussled from sleep and he can’t help himself, so he brings his free hand up to tuck a loose strand of red behind her ear, and, because he’s hopelessly in love with her, has been for years, before he knows it he’s cupping her jaw and gently brushing his thumb back and forth along the line of her cheekbone. Her plump lips part and the sight of her tongue swiping the bottom one is enough to make his heart skip a beat. 

“Mulder?” she asks softly. “Are you going to kiss me now?”

Is this a test? “Uh,” he stutters. “Would you- I mean, do you want me to?” Smooth, he chides himself.

She glances down for a moment, then her eyes dart back up to his. She nods once slowly. Then several more times. Her eyes are big and blue and wet and he can’t bring himself to look away, can’t bring himself to stop caressing her face. He takes a deep breath and leans in so that his nose brushes against hers and he can feel the small puffs of breath escaping her mouth. Her eyes close and he’s so close to her that he’s sure he can feel her eyelashes brush his cheek.

“Mulder,” she breathes, and it’s not question – it’s encouragement, reassurance, a small prayer he’s waited his whole life to hear so that his soul can be saved by her, the only one who matters. His lips ghost over hers, holding his breath in case this dream, because it must be a dream, ends with him alone in his bed with a broken heart and a raging hard on. But then she presses her mouth to his in the softest, most perfect semblance of a kiss and he forgets everything but the feel of her mouth, finally, against his – that this can’t be happening, that it is happening, that he never wants it to end, that it must. She pulls away but his lips chase hers and he’s kissing her again. And again. And again and again and again. Soft pecks combined with longer, harder smooches, all of which leave him breathless but desperately returning for more. Her small hands reach up to circle his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at his nape and it drives him wild with desire knowing that she’s into this, that she wants it. 

They’re both breathing harshly when she pulls away and he briefly worries that it’s over and that she’ll tell him to go home and forget it never happened, but instead she pulls her legs beneath herself to kneel and then swivels so that she’s facing him, her foot-cushioned ass by his knees and her bent knees in front of the sofa adjacent to his still-numb-but-since-forgotten-about butt. When she leans back in, mouth returning to his, he knows for sure that she’s the smartest person in the world because now the angles are all right and it’s not long before someone’s tongue sneaks into someone else’s mouth and he’s properly making out with Dana Scully. One of his hands is still cupping her jaw to make sure her face stays close to his (even though she’s showing no signs of running away), while the other slowly starts sliding from her knee up to her thigh, eventually curling around her denim covered hip, thumb swiping her delicate hip bone and fingers pressing just above where the swell of her perfect ass begins. She soon kneels up and he realises he’s been urging her forward with the hand on her hip, probably leaving finger shaped bruises on her fair skin, and the thought of the soft, bare skin of Scully’s hip combined with the mind bending way her tongue is exploring his fillings make him moan into her mouth, which in turn makes her reciprocate in kind.

He’s in desperate need of oxygen so he pulls back, hands slowly, gently, cautiously trailing down over the firm peach that is her ass, down to hold the backs of her thighs for a moment, before reversing back up to firmly grasp and lift the supple globes he’s unabashedly stared at for years. Her breath catches in her throat and he looks up to see her eyes closed and chest heaving. She takes a moment to catch her breath and he doesn’t dare move, then she leans down to plant a chaste kiss on his lips before lifting her nearest leg to straddle him and resting her ass (with his hands still attached) on his thighs and he think he may never see straight again he’s so turned on by her. 

Without another thought, he dives back into her mouth tongue first, devouring her, kissing her so hard it feels like his lips are bruising, licking so far into her mouth to taste her over and over that his jaw aches. She doesn’t seem to mind, in fact seems to relish his enthusiasm, fingers tugging at his hair, occasionally whimpering at a well-placed nip or a squeeze of her buttocks. He notices that she’s slipped forward, breasts crushed to his chest and ass planted directly over his erection. He wonders if she can feel it throbbing for her through their jeans. He wonders if her clit is throbbing just as hard. He wonders if she’s wet for him, if she wants him to be inside her as much as he wants to be. 

The pressure is too much and he begins gently moving her hips in a rocking motion to ease some of the tension and she quickly gets the hint, grinding against him and groaning seductively into his mouth. He breaks away to trail wet kisses down her neck, relishing in the smell of her perfume, her soap, the natural smell of her that makes his head reel. “Mulder,” she gasps as his tongue traces the hollow of her clavicle and he grows impossibly harder, a veritable Pavlovian response to the rasp in her voice that isn’t dissimilar to the one she gets after a late autopsy or when he calls her in the middle of the night, sometimes just to hear her voice, but always under the guise of a break in a case. 

Her hands reach between them for the hem of her sweater and before he knows it she’s sitting in his lap with only a bra separating him from the sweetness of her breasts. “I was getting so hot,” she whispers, as though he needs an explanation for her wanton behaviour. He reaches out and cups the perfectly round swells and she gasps, his thumbs already rubbing over the distinct bumps of her nipples through the satin. “Oh,” she sighs. “Oh, Mulder.” Her hips start moving again of their own accord and he knows he needs to feel her, to touch the secret place between her thighs until she falls apart for him. 

His fingers trail down, index finger swirling around the button of her jeans, while his eyes glance up to hers, begging for permission. Her kiss on his mole is enough consent and he unbuttons her jeans and drags the zipper down, revealing a glimpse of simple white cotton which he immediately knows will forever haunt his dreams and fantasies for simply belonging to her. He’s about to slide his hand inside when he decides it’s in for a penny, in for a pound, and slips it beneath her underwear to encounter a manicured patch of soft downy hair. The muscles of her stomach are trembling with nervousness and anticipation. He places soothing kisses on her sternum as his fingers slip further down, confirming his suspicions that down here she is hot, and quivering, and oh so fucking wet. His middle finger grazes her clit, his hand confined by the tightness of denim, and she whimpers despite biting her lip so hard he thinks she may draw blood.

His fingers continue their exploration when suddenly one slips up into her tight canal. A throaty groan erupts from her. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Scully, oh, you’re so wet, baby.”

“Mulder,” she whimpers. “Oh, God.”

His free hand scrabbles at her back, desperate to undo her bra and bare her body to his greedy eyes, and she quickly reaches behind her, unfastening the clasp with a well-practiced pinch. Together they pull the straps down her arms and cast the white satin garment aside and his eyes are drawn to her furled nipples like magnets. “So beautiful,” he mutters unconsciously, then, realising his slip, raises his eyes to hers. “You are so beautiful,” he says again, this time directly to her. 

He brings her head down with a hand on her neck so that he can resume his onslaught on her mouth, and begins to slowly rub his finger inside her, gently thrusting it shallowly in and out, soon adding a second to the fray. She helps, gently bobbing up and down in his lap, controlling the speed and force of his ministrations. She breaks off their kiss, gasping as he gives his digits a particularly hard thrust. “Mulder,” she says urgently. “Mulder, I need... Oh! I need... God!” She’s not making any sense but by the way she’s urging his head down toward her breasts he can guess what she needs.

“Shh, baby,” he croons. “I know. Relax.” His tongue pokes out to circle her areola and she melts like butter in his lap, fingers laced in his hair as he begins suckling her nipples with enthusiasm. The sighs and moans coming from above him go straight to his cock. Jesus, he can’t wait to be inside her. It’s then he realises that what he wants most in the world before that happens is to taste her. He wants it so badly that he knows he needs his mouth on her pussy right fucking now.

He disengages from her breast with a soft pop. “Stand up,” he says gruffly, authoritatively, and she complies immediately. She trusts him completely and he loves her all the more for it. She’s the only one he trust anymore. He roughly tugs her jeans and underwear down her legs while she braces her hands on his shoulders and lifts her feet like an obedient child as he strips her. He tugs his t-shirt over his head as she kneels back down. He kisses her delectable mouth again and then shimmies down so that she’s straddling his shoulders, his neck braced against the foot of the couch and his legs stretched out beneath the coffee table.

He takes the time to look at her for the first time. She’s exactly as he’d dreamed about. Better. All softness and pale skin, neat pubic hair, pink and quivering between her legs. She’s amazing. And she smells incredible. He senses her getting impatient at the amount of time he’s spending down there without doing anything. Always efficient, his Scully is. Her impatience soon gives way to discomfort and then to worry, so he decides to wrap it up and get to work, licking a clean line from slit to clit, where he flicks his tongue over the firm little nub. She tastes about as good as she smells and he really dives in. His fingertips press unyieldingly into her thighs, even as she yelps in surprise and instinctually tries to pull away from his mouth. He’s all teeth and tongue and sloppy kisses and he can’t for the life of him understand how this is the first time he’s gotten to taste her when he knows he’s going to crave her every second of every day from now on. 

Focussing his attention on her clit he slides two fingers back into her. She starts to rock above him and he’s pretty sure she’s groping her own breasts but he can’t think about that because the thought of Scully pinching her nipples will definitely make him come in his pants right now and he really wants to save that for later when he’s inside her and fucking her and able to look her in the eye and- Fuck! Mulder, get a goddamn grip.

He notices he’s slacked off and picks up the pace again, finger fucking her for all he’s worth until his bicep begins to burn and drilling his tongue over her clit until he feels her thighs start to tense and release next to his ears. Her moans are definitely louder. All of a sudden his scalp is on fire as a hand reaches down to tug a chunk of his hair and he registers that she’s coming. He’s made Scully come. Her thighs are shaking violently and he can feel her internal walls clamping around his fingers. She’s moaning something that sounds like his name but he can’t be sure. Anything that comes out of her mouth is honey because he has made Scully, his partner, his best friend, the love of his life, orgasm using only his fingers and tongue. It’s a little dramatic, yes, but he hasn’t had a lot of practice in the last 6 years (or any at all if he’s being frank), and Scully doesn’t exactly strike him as an easy nut to crack from what little he knows about her personal life.

He feels her relax above him, folding forward to rest her upper body on her forearms which are braced on the sofa cushions, breathing heavily. He places a kiss on each thigh and withdraws his fingers which he unceremoniously wipes on his jeans. He manages to manoeuvre himself out from underneath her in the small gap between the sofa and the coffee table, bumping his knee on the way but mostly unscathed. Aside from the erection in his pants which is by now begging for attention. 

He returns to his original position, leaning back against the couch, and draws lazy circles on the bare skin of her back as she gets her breathing under control and her body stops trembling. Eventually she raises her head to look over at him and smiles another heartbreakingly exquisite smile and he knows for sure that he can’t go a day without seeing her for the rest of his life. He wants to wake up to that smile every morning and kiss those lips every night. He wants babies with eyes that blue. He wants it all, everything, with her. “I love you too,” she says softly and he realises that he said the words aloud, the only three words that could sum up his thoughts and how he feels about her, exactly how much she means to him. So he does the only thing he can think of, the thing he wants to spend the rest of his life doing, and kisses her again.

She moves to sit up on the sofa, spreading her legs so that he can kneel between them. Somehow his pants get undone and he feels her hand slide beneath the material of his Jockeys to grip him in her tight, hot little fist and he thinks he may cry because it feels so fucking good. He needs to be inside her like he needs air so he quickly stands to strip of the last barriers between them.

She moves to lie down fully, arms outstretched, welcoming his weight on top of her. His hips are bracketed by the cradle of her thighs and for the first time in so long, maybe ever, he feels home. He brushes the hair back from her face and kisses her again and again, unable to get his full. She’s too fucking delicious. Too fucking precious to him to ever let go of. But then she pulls back and whispers into his ear, “I’m ready. I want you inside of me.” And he couldn’t agree more.

There’s a moment of panic when he reaches down to grip himself and find a way in and accidently bumps the wrong hole, but she quickly corrects him, quieting him with a few choice kisses while he frantically apologizes. He’s sliding into her, slowly, so, so slowly, and she’s so perfectly hot and tight and so beautiful taking deep breaths with her eyes closed below him because it’s been about as long for her as it’s been for him and for some reason that makes him irrationally relieved. He doesn’t know if she feels like she belongs to him, wouldn’t want to place that burden of expectation on her, not when she’s finally so close, but he’s felt like he’s belonged to her for years, from since they met, from since before they met, like some great universal plan has fallen into place because it’s just him and her and this place and this moment that, despite all the twists and turns and obstacles and ups and down, they’ve made it to. And she loves him.

He kisses her some more, sipping gently from her mouth, while she relaxes, waiting for her cue before her begins to move. She opens her eyes and slides her hands down the muscles of his back to cup his now-perfectly-fine butt and he takes that as permission to pull slowly out and glide back into her. He does this a few times, in a slow and steady rhythm, letting her body adjust to him but also so that he doesn’t lose his mind in how good it feels. Once he know that he won’t go off at any second, he pulls out and crashes back into her with a renewed force, the sound of skin on skin accompanied by her loud, “Ah!” He briefly worries that he’s hurt her, but her fingers grip the flesh of his ass, urging him on so he does it over and over and over. He wanted it to be slow and sweet, the perfect first time, but he can’t control himself and she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, judging by the flush on her chest and the naughty words flowing freely from her perfect little mouth, she seems to be quite enjoying it. He’s fucking her properly now, thighs slapping loudly against each other. He’s given up on kissing her, instead burrowing his nose into her neck so that he can be surrounded by the raw smell of her while she pants harshly against his ear.

He realises his error almost too late. “Scully,” he groans urgently. “Baby, I’m close, I dunno if I can hold off.”

“Me too,” she says and he sends up a prayer. “Oh, I’m so close, Mulder. So fucking close, oh God!”

“Yeah,” he breathes, rising up onto his forearms so that he can look down at her losing herself. “Yeah, baby, come for me.”

“Ohhh,” she whines. “Fuck!”

He slamming into her full force, desperately clinging to the edge of the plateau to make sure she makes it. “Come on, Scully. That’s right, baby. I’m right here.”

Her eyes are tightly closed and there’s a furrow of concentration between her brows. Through the fog of lust in his mind he has an idea.

“Look at me,” he urges. Her eyes stay closed, focussed on finding her release. “Look at me, baby,” he whispers again and she forces her eyes to open blearily. “I love you, Scully. God, I love you so much.”

It works and he can feel her coming around him, fingernails scoring his back. He couldn’t care less because the sight of her falling apart throws him over the edge to his own orgasm, blood roaring in his ears and his life drains into her, one hot long spurt at a time. 

He collapses on top of her, all of his muscles spent and dissolved. She’s completely slack beneath him while they both try to catch their breath and let their heart rates slow to a mild gallop. With his last ounce of energy, he rolls to the side, flipping her over too to spoon her, and grabs the blanket folded over the back of the couch to drape over their rapidly cooling bodies.

He knows she’s nodding off again when he has a thought. “Hey, Scully,” he whispers. She grumbles something resembling a response. “We didn’t even make it to a bed.”

She huffs out a small laugh. “Does it matter? I thought we did just fine right here.”

“We did more that ‘just fine’ if you ask me, Scully,” he says teasingly into her ear, making her snicker again. “But if you’re willing, I’d be happy to give you another test run.”

“Shut up, Mulder,” she says through a yawn. “Besides, I’m tired and you woke me up for naked athletics so you should let me get some sleep. There’s always the morning. There’s a whole bunch of new places we can try.”

He was happy with that. And she was right. There was always the morning. And the one after that. And the one after that. And with the thought of his new favourite way to start the day in mind, he drifted to sleep with the woman he loved, the woman who loved him back, tucked beside him. He couldn’t be happier.


End file.
